


Breathing Black and White

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bottom Xu Ming Hao | The8, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Top Wen Jun Hui | Jun, but more like porn with angst, but that's nothing new, it gets soft i promise, minghao is stubborn, oof but spoiler they love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: Minghao looked up at Junhui, awaiting something, anything. He didn’t know why exactly he’d called— no, he knew why he called, he didn’t know why he thought calling was a good idea. He supposed it was how their relationship worked.Or, in which Minghao loves Junhui too much for his own good.





	Breathing Black and White

**Author's Note:**

> oof this is a mess and it actually used to be an old yoonseok fic that i hated so i rewrote it. i hope it turned out better than the original because that was an even bigger mess.

The silence in the air was almost painful. It was cold, much too cold for the beginning of September, that was for sure. The chilly air nipped at the tip of his nose and made his cheeks turn more red than they already were when he knocked at the door. Minghao looked up at Junhui, awaiting something, anything. He didn’t know why exactly he’d called— no, he knew why he called, he didn’t know why he thought calling was a good idea. He supposed it was how their relationship worked.

The whole friends with benefits dynamic was fine for them in the beginning; they were just a pair of friends who weren’t looking for attachment and needed a better way to get off without having to sign their lives away, they just needed a little more from their relationship. There were no feelings, no strings. That was how it had started, anyway. Then Minghao had gone and gotten himself attached to Junhui.  

He didn’t mean to get attached, he didn’t mean to want more than just a messy handjob or a quickie in the restroom, but he fell in love with Junhui’s touch. He couldn’t resist Junhui’s hands and mouth and tongue on him, words praising him, making him feel warmth and goodness in pools all over his body. He loved the way that Junhui made him feel way too much. He had always told himself that it was the feeling, not Junhui that he loved, that he could pick up any guy at the bar and they’d make him feel the same way, but who was Minghao kidding? He didn’t want anyone else to touch him the way Junhui did.

So, he did was any self-hating college student would do and showed up at Junhui’s apartment every week, knocking instead of pushing the door open when they acted like just-friends. They weren’t friends when they were like this— at least it didn’t feel like it. Every time Minghao made the call, they turned into different people. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have minded much if the two different versions of them merged together to create one giant mess, but things never seemed to work out in Minghao’s favour.

“Hi,” Junhui breathed out. Minghao was hyper-aware of Junhui’s eyes trailing down his body and back up again, meeting his gaze. He knew why Minghao called, he _always_ knew why Minghao called, Minghao knew that Junhui knew, and the anticipation was killing him. Junhui was smirking at him, too, which sold it. He always got so cocky when it came down to this. “Come in.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. As soon as Minghao stepped in, he had a hand balled up in the front of Junhui’s shirt and he was pulling him in for a too-fast kiss. It was messy; their teeth clashed at the awkward angle and their noses bumped a little on the way in, but they were too hung up on each other to care. It didn’t matter anyway, because within an instant, Junhui had him pinned against the now closed door and was trailing sloppy kisses down his throat. They never kissed each other on the mouth for more than ten seconds- it was an unspoken rule between them not to, because couples kissed like that, and they weren’t a couple. So they stuck to necks. Necks were pretty neutral.

Minghao couldn’t help the soft whine that left the back of his throat— even though it was almost embarrassing. It _was_ embarrassing, how Junhui could have him worked up so fast without doing much of anything; just peppering him in kisses and tonguing at the pressure point below the junction of his neck. Junhui had him wrapped around his finger, and he would never admit it, but the fact that he could leave Minghao a mess without doing much of anything said enough.

He wanted Junhui’s hands on him, gripping his hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, hiking up his legs, wrapping around his throat. Minghao wanted him in every sense of the word and they’d hardly even gotten started yet. He tugged at the hem of Junhui’s t-shirt, silently urging him to remove it, but Junhui was too busy nipping at his neck to notice.

“Off,” Minghao ordered breathlessly, “take it off,” but he had no place to.

There was a certain control exchange between the two of them that was implicit, but certainly there. Junhui gave orders and Minghao followed them, that’s just how it went. There was never any disagreement, nor was there any back talking or reversed roles, and that was the way it had always been and both of them liked it to be. However, sometimes Minghao would try to order Junhui around (it never ended well. He didn't know why he even tried) and sometimes Junhui got too cocky. This, too, was something that was normal.

Junhui chuckled into Minghao’s neck, the dull edge of his teeth never ceasing against the exposed skin, only moving lower as he pulled the fabric of Minghao’s crewneck down more. “What’s the magic word?” he asked, and Minghao knew it was completely un-ironic. This didn’t mean he was going to give in so easily though.

“Fuck you,” he seethed through his teeth, because god-fucking-dammit, Junhui, it was a t-shirt. It had hardly any bite, because he was desperate and Junhui’s hands were turning him to goo faster than he’d imagined possible.  

“Hmm,” he hummed, “That’s two words, HaoHao. Want to try again?” Minghao was sure that if Junhui wasn’t circling his knee around the clothed area of Minghao’s length and his hands weren’t pinned to his side, he’d be strangling Junhui, because it was a hookup, not a porno, the cocky asshole.

“Screw off,” Minghao ground out through his teeth.

Minghao was not one to beg. Especially over something as mediocre as a t-shirt. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like how whiny and needy it made him sound, and frankly, he was stubborn. But, when Junhui was replacing his knee with his palm and pressing the heel of it against Minghao through his jeans, he was _gone_.

“Come again?” Junhui was smirking at him— he could feel it against the heated skin of his throat. It only made him hate what he said more.

“Please,” quiet, but within an instant Junhui tore off his shirt. He hated that Junhui could make him lose his composure so easily, that he could make Minghao’s knees buckle with a change in his tone of voice. He hated that Junhui had him so whipped.

Minghao hardly had any time to marvel in the golden glow of his skin, the soft muscles in his abdomen, the raise of his hipbones, before Junhui was dropping to his knees and mumbling out, “I want to taste you.” Minghao was not one to refuse an offer such as that. He allowed the zipper to be pulled down and the button to be popped, moaning out loud at the way Junhui mouthed at him through his boxers. It only lasted so long before those slid halfway down his thighs, too and then Junhui had his mouth on him and Minghao couldn’t fucking see straight.

He tried calming his mind, which was going haywire for too many reasons for him to comprehend, especially at a time like this, but he managed to pick up the words _THIS IS WRONG_ from the very back of his brain. The thing was, it totally, one hundred percent did not feel that way. Perhaps it was that Junhui’s mouth was making him feel better than he could have put into words, but it didn’t feel like he was doing something wrong, even though he knew his was. Everything felt _right_ , even though Minghao was digging himself deeper into the bottomless pit he’d made for himself some three months ago. He knew that it made things worse for both of them every time he came back, but he couldn’t stop himself when he craved Junhui’s skillful hands after a lonely day, not when Junhui was always there for him. Minghao needed to stop it when he loved it too much. Loved him too much. It wasn’t like he could break this off, either, because not only would he lose Junhui like this, he’d lose him entire, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for something like that to happen just yet.

As much as Minghao was in love with him, and tried desperately not to be, Junhui was his friend, they were still best friends, and not having Junhui at all would break him to bits. So, every time he swallowed the feeling of remorse and came back over at least once a week; kissed him and threaded his hands through Junhui’s hair every time, let everything that happened happen, no matter how he felt after the fact.

“Jun,” he choked out, unsure whether it was better for him to loll his head back on his shoulders or to keep his eyes trained to the elder. Junhui looked up at him with those fucking eyes, and Minghao nearly came on the spot. He couldn’t possibly fathom how Junhui could still manage to look so dominant and breathtaking with a cock shoved halfway down his throat, but it must’ve been a skill. “Can we- _please_.”

Junhui pulled off, replacing his mouth with his hand and giving Minghao slow, teasing tugs. “Is there something you want?” he asked, his long fingers still moving at a snail’s pace, giving Minghao something, but not enough of anything good. Minghao only responded with a low grumble from the back of his throat, letting Junhui know that he would not be reduced to the whiny bitch he so easily made Minghao. He always failed at disobeying, his pride was just too high to admit it.

“If you want something, HaoHao, you should ask for it,” Junhui told him, and he still had that stupid smirk tugging at his lips, taunting and teasing and making Minghao want to rip his own hair out.

“Bedroom?” He tried insinuating what exactly it was he wanted without having to blatantly say it aloud. He knew Junhui wouldn’t make it that easy for him.

“What about it?” he asked inquisitively, as if Minghao wasn’t rock hard and twitching in his hand, steadily dribbling precome onto his fingers, as if he wasn’t trembling under Junhui’s touch, quivering in arousal.

“Don’t make me—”

“How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?” Yeah, Minghao was definitely going to strangle him once this was over. Junhui stood from where he’d knelt at Minghao’s feet, leaning down to the shell of Minghao’s ear and whispering, “tell me what you want, Hao.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered. It had to come out at one point or another.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you.”

He was definitely, totally, absolutely going to murder Junhui in his sleep, the fucking dickhead. He was a good lay, though, so Minghao digressed. “Fuck me, please.” There was hardly a second before Minghao’s bottoms were slid back up his legs and Junhui was wrapping his hands under Minghao’s thighs, hiking him up Junhui’s waist easily, languidly, like we weighed nothing. He carried Minghao to the bedroom, only stopping to press him against the wall and kiss him messily every once and a while, tugging off his sweater once they’d reached the bedroom. Minghao’s pants and underwear were next to come off, leaving him completely naked for Junhui to throw onto his bed. Junhui crawled over him, pressing his hands to the mattress on either side of Minghao’s head, and Minghao’s own slipping up to curl into Junhui’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss.

It was different. Softer, deeper, not as desperate as the ones they’d shared earlier in the evening, it caused Minghao to go lax under him, fingertips barely tugging, instead resting against his scalp and unwilling to move. The press of Junhui’s lips against his was something that he’d never get used to, that he couldn’t possibly get used to (for more reasons than he would have liked). Every one of Junhui’s kisses was different, unlike the others, but somehow just as good, making Minghao feel so many different things than he could put into words. The soft, deep kinds were the ones that Minghao found himself wanting more than the other kinds. These kinds of kisses made Minghao forget everything, just for a moment. He forgot the ache between his legs and the squeeze in his chest, he distraught feeling he’d gotten since he made the call to Junhui, the feeling he’d knew he’d get after he left. Their kiss wasn’t rushed or sloppy, it was slow, sweet, it (and Junhui’s hands on his hips; thumbs rubbing softly at his hip bones) made Minghao’s hazy in one too many ways to count.  These kisses made Minghao feel warm inside. Made him feel loved, even if he knew it was all just an illusion.

“What do you want, HaoHao?” Junhui hardly pulled away, lips still brushing over where Minghao’s own tingled as he spoke. Minghao nearly had to go cross-eyed in order to look at him.

The word _you_ buzzed on the tip of Minghao’s tongue, because he knew if he said it, he would know the deeper meaning behind it, even if Junhui didn’t. He couldn’t have Junhui, not in the way he wanted, at least. Sure, he could have him in the physical sense, all of his touches and kisses and strokes that shook Minghao to the bone being proof enough, but he could never _have_ Junhui. Not in the mental sense. Not in the sense that when he came home from class Junhui would kiss him on the corner of the mouth and tell him he’d missed him, even if he’d only been gone some five hours. Not in the sense that they could cook dinner together and laugh later about how shit it was, or they could go on roadtrips all over the countryside and have to pull over because they couldn’t go so long without kissing, even for a second. Not in the sense that Junhui was _his_ , only his.

“You.” He figured that it was worth a shot anyways. “I want you.” His hands slid to cup the back of Junhui’s neck, preventing him from moving anywhere too far. Junhui clumsily reached out and fumbled for the bottle of lube and a condom, which Minghao noted he always kept in his bedside table, and he tossed them down beside them.

Junhui kissed him briefly on the corner of his lips before he trailed open mouthed kisses down his chest, grinning stupidly at the way Minghao trembled under his lips. He slicked up his fingers quickly, circling one around his entrance before he asked, “this okay?”

Really, it shouldn’t have, but every time Junhui bothered to ask the simple question, Minghao’s heart squeezed. He didn’t quite know why, perhaps the fact that it gave him the facade of something that was more than just this, their stupid relationship dynamic. It made him feel like Junhui genuinely cared about him in the way Minghao wanted him to, not just in the conventional friend kind of way.

Minghao nodded his head, and the finger sank in slowly, the stretch of it painfully good, ripping a low groan from the centre of his chest. Junhui took his time as he stretched Minghao open, making sure that it was done properly and that he made Minghao feel good while it was happening. Feeling good or not, Minghao was aching and and he wanted Junhui so badly. He wanted Junhui to touch him, to _fuck_ him, but what he really wanted was for Junhui was hurry the fuck up and get to it.

“Junnie,” he whined out; impatient. “I’m ready, hurry up.” He didn’t really _mean_ for it to come out as harshly as it had, but he was horny and desperate and if Junhui didn’t speed things up he was pretty sure he was going to cry.

“Don’t order me around,” Junhui muttered under his breath. Minghao was exactly sure if he was meant to hear it or if Junhui had just said it for the sake of saying it, but he definitely had and he definitely had to hold back an eye roll. Junhui pulled out his fingers, leaving Minghao empty. He squeezed his thighs closed for friction against his aching length, dribbling precome onto his stomach.

Junhui tore the condom wrapper with his teeth like some sort of eager teenager (which he was, mostly), and slid it on, slicking himself up before fucking into Minghao hard and fast an all in one go. It knocked the wind out of him, made his back arch, a cry of, “fuck!” come out from between his lips before he could stop it. He fisted a hand into Junhui’s soft sheets, the ones he never got to spend too much time in, and tipped his head back into the cushiony pillows, letting a low whine slip out from the back of his throat.

“What?” Junhui asked; rhetorical. “You told me to hurry up and fuck you.” Minghao hated how he sounded so nonchalant, able to pump out coherent sentences when Minghao had already been reduced to mindless blabbering and a stuttered string of _fuck, fuck, fuck_ . He felt his skin sizzle under Junhui’s rough touch, but he liked it when Junhui got like this. He had alway had a thing for being manhandled, to be _used_ , especially since it was Junhui. He wanted bruises that’d last for days after he left, a silent reminder of what had happened between them.

Junhui’s hips were snapping quick and harsh into Minghao, jolting his lithe body up the bed with every movement, causing him to let out these little whines that somewhat resembled Junhui’s name. They were so close to each other; Junhui leant over him, elbows bracketing either side of Minghao’s head, lips hovering hardly an inch from Minghao’s own, and Minghao’s legs around Junhui’s hips and his blunt nails digging into Junhui’s back.

“Harder, please,” barely audible, let alone understandable, but Junhui still caught it. Minghao wasn’t even sure it was possible, but Junhui was switching their position so that Minghao’s knees were to his chest and his calves were on Junhui’s shoulders, and fucked into him hard and deep and fast and Minghao didn’t think he would last long if Junhui kept it up. He arched his back more, chest flush against Junhui’s in the space between his thighs, and worried his lip between his teeth to muffle himself.

“Stop that,” Junhui ordered gently, running a thumb over Minghao’s mouth, tapping it against the lip caught between his teeth. “I want to hear you. You sound so pretty.”

Minghao keened to the praise, letting his lip go and his jaw fall slack, tipping his head back once more and writhing against Junhui’s touch. Junhui carded his fingers through Minghao’s mop of chestnut hair, tangled and matted to his forehead with sweat, and leaned down to attach his lips to Minghao’s collar bone, sucking gently on it.

“Jun,” Minghao panted out after another few minutes or so of Junhui’s relentless pace. “Gē, GēGē, I’m close.” He gripped on Junhui’s back tighter, tighter, tighter, nails digging in once again to the already-marked flesh and holding him close.

“You can come,” Junhui told him, and it didn’t take long for him to do exactly that. Minghao arched his back, allowing a litany of the word _fuck_ , and a combination of _Junnie_ and _Gē_ to fall from his lips. He came untouched, in pearly white ropes all over his chest. Junhui followed shortly after, burying himself into Minghao and letting go with a low _fuck, Minghao_ , after the smaller had fallen pliant and oversensitive underneath him.

It was all shaky breaths and the heaving of chests from there on out, until the both of them could regulate their breathing and Junhui could calm down enough to tie and toss the condom and pull on some underwear.  He reached out to the bedside table for some tissues, then down to the floor and grabbed Minghao’s briefs, handing them to him before rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling as he felt Minghao tug them on and clean his chest off.

They lay together in silence for the next seven or so minutes, with Minghao’s head on Junhui’s bare chest and Junhui’s fingers drawing little shapes and patterns into Minghao’s rosy skin. This was how it usually went; laying together for a while before one of them had somewhere to be or Minghao just decided that the guilt was too heavy to bear while still in Junhui’s presence. Sometimes though, they acted like it hadn’t happened, like they hadn’t just fucked, and they went downstairs to go watch a film or play on Junhui’s Playstation, ignoring both the bruises on their skin and the heaviness in their hearts, so that they could still be _just friends_. They both knew they weren’t, but pretending they were was easier than facing the truth.

Junhui felt like home to Minghao. When they were there for those brief few minutes in silence, Minghao cradled in Junhui’s arms, he felt like home. He’d been close with his other friends before, sure, but never like this. Never chest-to-chest, skin-to-skin, breathing in each other and calming each other down. Junhui was different than all of Minghao’s other friends. He gave Minghao a sense of comfort and _warmth_.

Minghao felt awful because of it. He knew that he couldn’t do this to Junhui. He knew that she shouldn’t. He couldn’t continue to come to Junhui and ask for this, especially when he knew of all the negative repercussions. He was using Junhui in his own sick way, ruining what they had before and Minghao knew it. He couldn’t fuck things up anymore.

“We should get up,” Minghao said out of the blue. _I should leave you_ , is what that really meant.

“I have some twice-fried pork in my fridge if you want to eat,” Junhui offered with a grin, but it fell as soon as he saw the look on Minghao’s face.

“I have to go.” Minghao didn’t look at Junhui as he got up and slipped his clothes on.

“Oh, okay,” Junhui said flatly. He sounded upset, almost. Minghao supposed he had every right to be. “Are you going to Seungcheol’s on Friday? It’s movie night.”

“I don’t know,” Minghao said. “Look, Junhui,” he tried desperately not to scowl at the use of his full name; foreign in his mouth. He didn’t remember the last time he’d used it. He watched Junhui’s face fall. “I think...I think that we should stop this.” The words felt like poison on Minghao’s tongue, bubbling up his throat and stinging his lips. He hated everything about it; the way his chest squeezed, the way Junhui had become completely blank, as if the words Minghao spoke were empty.

It was quiet for a moment as Minghao pulled on his shoes. “We can still be friends, okay?” Junhui nodded at him; spineless. Minghao turned on his heel, grabbing his coat and ignoring the tears brimming his eyes as he closed the door, just so that he didn’t have to look at Junhui on the way out. Minghao left.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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Minghao came back. It had only been about an hour and a half but it was late now and he’d thought about it too much and he was stood at the doorway of Junhui’s apartment, knocking— _pounding_ at the wooden door. It was maybe a second or two before it swung open, revealing a tired looking Junhui.

“It’s not okay,” Minghao rushed out, balling his hands into fists. “I don’t want to be just friends with you. I want you to hold me and kiss me like you mean it and I am in love with you, Junhui. I am completely and totally in love with you, and I know that this is stupid-”

“Minghao-”

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same way, and I don’t want you to say it back-”

“Minghao.”

“I know that we were just fucking, and it took me so long for me to figure out that I’m in love with you and I’m sorry-”

“ _Xu Minghao_.” Junhui had tears in his eyes when Minghao looked up at him. “Can you shut the fuck up for a second and stop doing that stupid fucking thing you do where you miss what the other person is trying to say to you because you’re too fucking busy making things up? Shut up for a fucking second.” Minghao pursed his lips and looked to his feet, but remained quiet, not liking the wavering in Junhui’s voice. “Are you joking right now?”

Joking? Minghao couldn’t fathom the idea of playing Junhui even more than he already had.

“Please tell me you’re not kidding, Minghao.”

“No, Jun, of course not.” Minghao didn’t like the tears that steadily ran down Junhui’s cheeks. He didn’t like the ones that had begun to run down his own either.

“Why do you think I agreed to this in the first place?” Junhui asked, shaking his head at Minghao. “Did you think it was normal for me to be saying all of those things to you when it was supposed to be no-strings-attached?” Minghao remained silent, unable to come up with something, anything to say to him. “I’m in love with you, you piece of shit. That’s why. So please tell me you aren’t fucking around when you say that.”

“I love you,” Minghao said. “I love you, I love you.” Junhui kissed him then. It was slow and soft and Minghao was reaching up to cup Junhui’s cheeks and wipe away the warm tears with his thumbs. “We’re idiots,” Minghao mumbled as they pulled apart. There were still tears in his eyes and his face was red from crying, but he was smiling. Minghao was _beaming_ at Junhui.

“The biggest idiots.” Junhui pulled Minghao back into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around Minghao thin middle and pressing his chin to the top of Minghao’s head. Minghao gripped the back of Junhui’s thin t-shirt, pressing his face into Junhui’s broad chest and sniffling quietly. They held onto each other forever.

Or, until the cold air became too much to bear and Minghao decided he _did_ want the leftover twice-fried pork. Junhui didn’t mind. Minghao didn’t either.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/hfkyounghyun)


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